The Other Brother
by Quicksilver
Summary: Did you know Chiriko had an older brother? He does... and here's what he has to say after learning the poor child died.


The Other Brother

Quicksilver's Quill Offers

The Other Brother

~A Renaissance sidestory~

[mbsilvana@yahoo.com][1]

standard disclaimers

Lyrics translated by Tasuki no Miko; used with permission.

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_If I could have a small wish granted_

_It would be for the stars to light up your darkness._

_People are small, people are hollow._

_Return one day to the heavens._

_Return. Return._

  


- Chiriko__

_Ito Chiisaki Negai_ (The Smallest Wish)

  


  


My name is Ou Chang.

I doubt you would have heard of me, but my younger brother, although he was only thirteen, was very famous. Quite aside from being the most brilliant person I have ever known, he also had the honor of being Chiriko, the seventh and final seishi of Suzaku, the Seishi of the Mind. But he's dead now.

It's quite a shock to learn that your only sibling has died. I'm told he died valiantly, but that is cold comfort to my aged mother, who has withdrawn to her rooms and taken to her sick bed. I doubt she will ever rise from it- she never fully recovered from Dokun's birth, and with his death, she seems to have collapsed in upon herself entirely.

I remember the day they brought the news from the capital, a day during last autumn, when the final leaves of the summer clung stubbornly to the trees. It rarely snows here, yet the leaves still fall, and the rainy season comes, darkening the earth with its cold, moist breath. It was on one of those days that a pair of horsemen came, searching for our household. I greeted them formally, a feeling of forboding sitting like a rock in my stomach.

With an elaborate gesture, the first man slid off his horse and knelt before me, profering a roll of rice-paper tied with a red ribbon, marked with the seal of the Emperor. It was with shaking hands that I undid it, and my mother leaned over my shoulder to read the elegant script. When we were finished, I raised disbelieving eyes to the soldier. "This can't be right- Dokun's only a child!" I protested.

"Gomen nasai," he said, and the sorrow in his eyes was sincere. "But I have seen the body of Seishi Chiriko myself. They held a state funeral two days ago. The Emperor would have waited for your family to attend, but we are preparing for war, and time is too scarce to spare."

I nodded numbly, my cloudy mind unable to comprehend the new reality I had just entered. "Please, you must have had a long journey. Allow me to offer you the hospitality of my house," I said.

The soldier shook his head. "Iiee. We are needed- we must return at once. Konan is at war, and can spare none of her soldiers." He swung his leg over the saddle and kicked his horse lightly, surprising the beast into a canter. Then they both were gone, leaving us to deal with the aftermath of such devestating news.

I looked at my mother, and was surprised that she was shedding no tears. "Kaasan?" I asked tentatively, decideding that by focusing on her, I wouldn't have to deal with my own grief.

She looked at me with the green eyes that were the hallmark of our family. "I knew," she said. "I guess a mother knows these things," she said, heading back into the house. When she entered her room, I didn't know that it would be the last time I would see her outside of it. 

Dokun was a late child, the kind they call "change of life", one that came to as a surprise to us all. I was fourteen when he was born, and I suppose it was a good thing we were so far apart in years. If we had been closer, I most likely would have been overcome by envy, but as it was, all I could feel was bemusement and a certain amount of pride in him.

He was precocious; a child prodegy. He spoke in simple sentences at under a year, walked about the same time. By the time he was two and a half, he was learning to read. His intelligence was frightening, but no one hated Dokun for it. We had a hard time understanding him, yes, but there was always a gentleness to him that kept people from disliking him. He was kind and patient, and never put on airs for all that he was entitled to.

Children who are born late in life sometimes have problems mentally, but Dokun showed no signs of it. If anything, he seemed to be stunted in his physical growth- while a pretty child, he was always small for his age- the last time I saw him, he appeared to be around eight, even though he had just celebrated his thirteenth birthday.

I was the only one who knew he was Chiriko before he left for the Palace, claiming the stars had called to him and warned him of danger to the Miko. He was about ten, as I recall, and it was a late night in spring when I discovered that my brother was a warrior chosen by our God. It hadn't been that long since our father, a good man, had died, so I had been rather more shocked then is excusable.

Dokun loved to read; if given the chance, he would stay up way past a decent hour, trying to cram as much information into his head. It was our task to make sure he remembered to care for the more mundane aspects of life.

That night he had been in the library, and our mother and servants had already gone to bed. I was about to retire myself, when I remembered that no one has yet pried him out of his books and back into the real world. With a sigh, I proceeded to the library, prepared to meet the usual overly innocent eyes that would look injured when I took his fingers off the books and escorted him to bed. We had learned that he would sneak a volume or two back to his room if we didn't monitor him carefully.

I walked into the library slowly, careful not to startle my ototochan. At ten, he looked like a six year old. He sat on a cushion, engroassed in a book, trying to puzzle out the words by oil light. Strangely, there seemed to be another light that shone from somewhere within the room. Creeping forward, my eyes fastened on the source with horrified wonder.

It was coming from my brother.

More particularly, it was coming from, of all places the top of his foot. I walked closer until I could see the lines that were glowing. To my shock, it wasn't some spilled paint, but rather a symbol- the symbol of "stretching", the mark of Chiriko.

"Chiriko?" I murmured softly, trying to reconcile this new knowledge with what I had already known. He turned his sea green eyes on me and smiled beautifically. The flames danced across his face, and for an instant, he looked like an old man, but then the illusion was shattered. I blinked my eyes, trying to reconcile the dichotomy. "Chiriko?" I asked again.

He nodded. "Hai, oniisan," he said, his normally piping voice gentled by the night. "Boku wa Chiriko desu," he said, holding out his hand for me to shake. I took it in my own, trembling slightly. It was as though my brother was a complete stranger.

"How- long have you known?" I asked, trying to collect my scattered thoughts.

He shrugged. "A day- a week- a year... perhaps forever," he said with negligent wave of his hand.

I doubted his carelessness. I was sure he knew the exact date- Dokun was not given to forgetfulness, but he had learned that his abilities sometimes frightened those older then he was.

It was so hard for me to make sense of this. I had always known my youngest brother was extraordinary, but to learn he was a seishi... to learn he was a figure that had stepped from legend....

He seemed to understand my confusion, for he reached out and kissed my cheek. "I love you, oniisan," he said softly, and that was all that mattered. He was my ototochan, no matter what else he may have been.

He was only a child. I never thought of Suzaku as a cruel God, but now I wonder- my little brother hadn't even been old enough to get married, and now he lies dead, fallen in some foreign land.

My name is Ou Chang, and my brother is dead.

  


This is in the style of "Glimpses of a Fallen Star"

I guess the entire style STILL hasn't worked its way out of my system yet.

Lots of love!

QS

  
  


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   [1]: mailto:mbsilvana@yahoo.com



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